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Finding My Father

Jeanine McKenzie Allen, Class of 1962

Torpedoman Lloyd Charles McKenzie

THE USS TRITON (SS 201) was lost on 15 March 1943, during her sixth war patrol. The submarine was depth-charged by three Japanese destroyers in the Caroline Basin, northwest of the Admiralty Islands and to the north of New Guinea. Triton sank in 18,000 feet of water, taking with her a crew of seventy-four. One of those lost that day was my father, Torpedoman's Mate Lloyd Charles McKenzie.

He was but one of the 3,620 submariners who gave their lives during World War II and, with his fallen shipmates, remains on eternal patrol in the enduring memories of those who remember and honor these gallant men. For me, the memories were difficult and confusing but eventually took me on a journey to learn more about my father and his service to our country.

It began at an early age, with my constantly wondering what had happened to my father. I remember holding my father's hand and pulling my wagon at the home he'd bought for us in San Diego, California, and I remember playing and laughing with him. All else about his last visit seems vague. I remember well the day, seven months later, when the telegram came, and how devastated my mother was. Only my 2 1/2-year-old sister and I were with her, and I felt so helpless trying to console my mother, rocking her body back and forth, trying to get her to tell me what was wrong. I begged, until she told me that I wouldn't understand. Then my goal, still rocking her from side to side the best I could, was to tell her I would understand! When she finally told me, through her sobs, that she thought my father was dead, I remember realizing with my 3 1/2-year-old mind, that she was right in thinking that I did not understand.

Everyone began to visit and told us to keep up hope, so we did, but gradually through a series of events, the understanding came to me that he might not be coming home. The last occurred while standing at the school window one day in early 1946, thinking my dad might be the next father running up the walk with my mother for one of the glorious reunions our class had witnessed so joyfully for months. As men trickled home, some who had been missing in action came straight to the school to see their children. I kept going to the window to sharpen my pencil, just so I could be watching when they came. One day, the teacher said, "Jeanine, turn around. Class, Jeanine's father gave his life for our country. Let's give them a hand." It was a shock that I did not want, and suddenly I felt as if ballast had been taken from me, but I did begin to accept more the possibility that he might not come home.

Authorized by an Act of Congress in 1947, the Gold Star "Mothers Pin" was presented to famalies of men killed in action during WWII

Through the years, it was a subject that, if mentioned at all, was hushed immediately with an "Oh." If his name was mentioned, we'd talk about him a minute or so, and we'd usually hear that he was a wonderful, kind, and fun-loving person, then the subject was changed to something "happier." I remember once asking my father's mother to tell me about my dad. She smiled, but her eyes were so full of hurt, and she remained quiet as tears rolled gently down her cheeks. My dad's sister came in and said, "Who's upset Grandma?" I felt ashamed and sorry and never asked her again. The feeling of "ownership" of my dad seemed constantly elusive, and I craved and fell silent at any chance of hearing about him.

I never cried and never felt that he had truly died, until about 1986, when fathers of friends began to pass away from normal causes associated with aging. It was then that I experienced a tremendous sense of loss - sadness over never really having had the chance to have him - and more profoundly an urgency to make certain that the world knew that he had existed and that he had done something for the world. I called Arlington National Cemetery, found that nothing commemorated the submariners lost in World War II, and asked how I could go about helping to create a memorial for all.

Finding My Father continued >>